Fearless Idiot
by Mirsa
Summary: Sam isn't known as "O Fearless Idiot" for nothing, but that's not always a good thing ...


Sam gingerly pushed her hand into the dark crack between the door and the frame. Curling her wrist as far as she could, she felt for the deadbolt turn on the inside of the door. As she worked, the girl kept her eyes trained on the empty door on the far end of the hall. If Ryan caught her doing this, she would get in trouble – even as the known risk-taker and fearless ghost hunter in the PRS universe, Sam had been known to take unnecessary and often naturally dangerous risks while on case, and more than once the A&E crew had had to carefully edit their film in order to mask Ryan's reprimanding Sam or her arguing against him before storming out.

Just as Sam's fears were realized, her fingers brushed the metal of the lock. As if the mere touching of the thing had been a catalyst, everything happened in a light speed domino affect. Ryan spotted Sam, and immediately knew what she was doing. His deep voice shattered the silence of Dead Time as he barked her name, but as the man advanced towards her, Sam suddenly became intensely aware of several things. The lock her hand now rested on was cold, so cold it felt warm and she knew her fingers were going to burn from the touch. As she had adverted her eyes from Ryan's furious glare, a movement of shadow from _inside_ the room caught her attention and Sam turned her head to press her eye as close as she could to the small opening. As her body lay smooshed against the wood, there suddenly appeared mere inches from her a face, grotesque and deformed, it's one eye glittering and its mouth twisted into a leer.

Ryan had just reached Sam, and was looming over her, furious but unwilling to risk hurting her by jerking her away from the crack where her arm had disappeared. He knew she knew he was there, and expected her to slowly retract her body and turn to face him. Instead, the man was surprised to suddenly see the girl's body stiffen, her head turned at an angle that showed she was staring at something that lay beyond the door … something that caused a look of horror to cross her features. Almost immediately after that, a scream ripped from Sam's lips as she staggered backwards, furiously trying to release her hand from the small crack that had pinned it in her haste. Ryan grabbed her shoulders, both to steady her and to calm her struggling as he reached to help her get free. The sight of a thin, bloody gash running jagged down the length of her forearm almost caused him to freeze, but the tears streaming down Sam's face kept him moving. As he freed her hand, Ryan felt a touch of burning cold and the startled look on his face complimented those of his other teammates who had abandoned their posts at the sound of Sam's wail and rushed to the pair's side.

Ryan knelt on the floor, cradling Sam's sobbing form against his chest. Her right arm hung limply, the red blood oozing down and dripping from her loose fingers to pool on the floor. No one spoke, but the tension in the air said all they wanted to.

"Dead Time's over. Get the gear and tell the family they need to find somewhere else to stay tonight." No one questioned the PRS director's orders, and they silently retreated to the tasks he'd assigned, leaving Ryan to get Sam. She had quieted by now, but her sobs were replaced with uncontrollable shivers, and nothing Ryan could say would get her to open her eyes. Her skin was visibly pale, and the hand that gripped his shirt was clenched so tight Ryan was sure no amount of ironing would de-wrinkle the fabric.

"C'mon girl, let's get you out of here." Sam still didn't open her eyes, but she moved her feet until both soles were pressed against the ground, and with Ryan guiding her up, she managed to get back on her feet. But the triumph lasted only as long as it took Ryan to regain his own footing before Sam tottered and slammed into the wall, directly onto her wounded arm. A sharp yelp was the only sound she made as Ryan darted to her side, but now she had bowed her head and refused to turn her face to him, even when he cradled her head with both hands.

"Sammy …" his pet name for her got a reaction, but only her nestling lightly into his hands. Forgetting trying to get her out on her own, Ryan bent over and gently scooped the girl into his arms. Sam immediately wrapped her good arm around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as he made his way to where his team and the A&E camera crew were packed and waiting outside. Nobody asked any questions, only made way for Ryan to get to one of the PRS vehicles where Sergey waited with an open door into the empty middle seat. Maneuvering a little, Ryan managed to get Sam and himself into the car, but he forsook the world in order to study the girl's face and to murmur reassuring nonsensical things into her ear as they left the house far behind.

The B&B the team was staying in was a good half hour away from the client's house, and Ryan hoped Sam would be back to her normal self by the time they arrived. Worried as he was, being her boyfriend, Ryan was even more concerned by what had made Sam react so. For all their arguments and fights – both on and off the show – Ryan knew Sam was spiritually one of the strongest members of his team, having faced things similar to his own experiences, and some things he couldn't even imagine. To have her become afraid on a case was unheard of – she was the team daredevil, challenging every ghost, entity, and spirit before she even stepped inside the buildings.

Ryan's thoughts were cut short by a slight forward thrust, an indication of the vehicle pulling to a permanent stop. He glanced out the window to see they had arrived, and reached over to unlock the door but Heather beat him to it, her face clearly telling him everyone else was also worried about Sam's condition. As he slid himself and the girl out of the car, Ryan nodded to his team members but began walking towards the inn. People were moving around them, relatively quietly (as much as a camera crew could be), when Sam suddenly squirmed in his arms and he let her slide to the ground, his hands grasping her shoulders to keep her up right. Her hands moved to grasp his forearms and Ryan moved his hands up to cup her face. For the first time since the incident, Samantha slowly blinked her eyes open, looking into Ryan's face through her lashes before glancing around and taking a deep breath.

"It's ok. I'm alright."

Ryan shook his head. "Like hell you're alright. What happ-"

Sam reached a hand up to press her fingers against his lips, silencing him. "Give me an hour. I – I need to collect myself before I talk about it." She read his eyes. "Can you give me that, Ry?"

It took him a minute of searching her eyes, brow furrowed, before Ryan slowly nodded, kissing her fingers before she pulled her hand away. He stood watching as she walked to Elfie to beg the keys to their room before darting up the front porch steps and vanishing into the establishment. Nodding to himself, Ryan resolved to give her an hour and nothing more before turning around to help his other friends help the crewmen move equipment. At one point when he found himself standing next to Elfie, he caught her staring at him.

"An hour." She nodded before moving off. He knew she would pass the word to the other PRS members. They could wait an hour to find out what had happened to their youngest, and most reckless member.

True to her word, Samantha was showered and sitting on her bed when Ryan knocked his way into the room exactly one hour later. The television was on, but the channel she had it turned to was a soothing New Age music station, images of waterfalls and green meadows complimenting the mood music emanating softly from the speakers. She sat with her back pressed against the headboard, a pillow supporting her lower back. Her knees were drawn up and her arms were crossed over her stomach as she sat with her head leaned back, eyes once again closed. Ryan knew she'd heard him, but she didn't move until he sat onto the bed and laid a hand on her bare foot. Slowly she brought her head down, opening her eyes to stare at him before contorting her body away from him, reaching for something on the other side of the bed.

When she righted herself, Sam held a small first-aid kit, which she offered to Ryan with one hand. He was puzzled for a moment as he took the container, but then he noticed she still had her right arm pressed against her stomach and then he remembered the wound. With a slight grimace, he motioned and she gingerly unfolded her arm and held it out for his inspection. The sight of the angry red scratch running down her forearm made Ryan wince, and he quickly opened the kit and rummaged around, finally producing antiseptic cream, gauze and an elastic bandage. Wrapping his hand around her wrist to keep her from moving as he treated her, Ryan gently squeezed a thin line of cream down the length of the wound before laying a strip of gauze on top of her arm. Continuing the process, he wrapped the entire forearm in gauze, securing it before he did the same with the elastic bandage.

At last, her arm was cleaned, disinfected, and safely swathed in a lime green elastic bandage. As he replaced the items in the med kit, Ryan watched Sam test the range of her damaged arm. When he saw her staring intently at the green bandage with a look of amusement he knew well, Ryan couldn't help smiling before tossing the box onto a nearby chair. The movement caught her attention, and Sam turned her head to face him once more.


End file.
